Soundcheck with Ethan

By: Ethan Barrocas

On her newest record, WOR$T GIRL IN AMERICA, Slayyyter steps on your throat and keeps you gagged until the end.

Something has been stirring inside the St. Louis singer Slayyyter for years—climbing, mutating, and finally reaching a breaking point. After being labeled “up-and-coming” for far too long, she sounds done waiting. On her third album, WOR$T GIRL IN AMERICA, she gives everything—and hits hard.

On her first major label debut, you’d expect the edges to be sanded down and marketed for more mainstream appeal, but instead, these edges are sharper than ever.  From its opening moments, the record commands hysteria and chaos. The production is dialed up to the max: dirtier, abrasive, and louder, fusing electroclash and industrial textures that feel distinctly digital and unpolished, like it’s straight out of the early 2010s. It’s intentionally overwhelming, knowing it serves a purpose that’s obnoxious yet euphoric. WOR$T GIRL IN AMERICA is completely unbound, moving with reckless intent and doing whatever the hell it wants.
Following that chaos, the album reveals itself through its most explosive moments, letting sound take priority over any straightforward narrative. The album opens with the sharp-tongued “Dance…,” and the first full minute conjures a high-energy, intense atmosphere through a variety of synths. The production on this thing is massive and engulfing, pairing perfectly with the lyrical themes of defiance and emotional self-sufficiency. It sets the tone of the album right away, welcoming you into this world of trashy Americana where you’re expected to be on the dancefloor, sweating your ass off until you’re left breathless.

Slayyyter’s ambition to reach past her limits is shown most notably on the loudest tracks, where she experiments with danceable grunge like “Yes Goddd” and “I’m Actually Kinda Famous.” The rage-fueled screams on the chorus of “Yes Goddd” are next level, but the drop at the end is pure whiplash, reminiscent of the early works of Skrillex and Justice. On the other hand, “I’m Actually Kinda Famous” feels like an altercation, with crunchy, distorted vocals that sound aggressive and harsh, but in the best way possible. 

“$t. Loser” continues that same thread, revolving around a  continuous loop, “I think about you, I think about you.” This repetition highlights a chaotic spiral of obsessive insecurity; instead of processing it, it turns into something loud and relentless.  The lyrics jump from resentment to self-awareness, driven by the fear of being overlooked, to caring far more than anyone else does. The production highlights Slayyyter’s internal chaos, with siren-like textures and an edgy, distorted guitar. The vocal runs near the end cut through the noise, mirroring her inner rage perfectly.

“Cannibalism!” maintains the intensity, but Slayyyter experiments with a vibe similar to surfer rock, laced with a heavy dose of darkness. Her desire becomes overwhelming as the energy builds into something chaotic, then transitions into a Lady Gaga-esque chorus that’s sexy and commanding.  

“Crank” pushes things even further, a booming frenzy that leans fully into the album’s excess qualities. The production is blazing, almost claustrophobic, yet it never collapses. It stays roaring throughout, but the humorous chorus stands out the most to me. It’s impossible to ignore, hitting with a blunt force that feels ecstatic. “I get so gay off that tequila,” adds a layer of personality that feels ridiculously self-aware—it’s exactly what the album aims to be.

Even with the loud energy, it remains intentional, allowing for moments of vulnerability. Tracks like “Gas Station” peel back the exaggerated persona as she draws on the memory of her dad leaving her at a gas station, recontextualizing it into something romanticized and warped. Sonically, it’s more restrained than the rest of the album, and that restraint gives the lyrics space to land rather than being swallowed by heavy production. 

While “Gas Station” turns inward, focusing on personal trauma and confusion, “Brittany Murphy” expands that lens outward, utilizing a celebrity as a symbol to project the same instability and longing. She imagines her own death and questions what kind of legacy she will leave behind and if it’ll truly matter. “Do you notice all I’ve done?” The production recalls her 2019 self-titled mixtape, with a very Y2K, digitized feel that reinforces the song’s nostalgic feeling while underscoring her desire for recognition and permanence. By the album’s close, this record feels like a culmination of everything Slayyyter has been chasing, sharpened and heightened to the absolute extreme. WOR$T GIRL IN AMERICA solidifies Slayyyter’s dominance in the pop landscape. She explores themes of fame and obsession while remaining vulnerable, and, to top it all off, delivers an unruly, ferocious soundscape unlike anything I’ve ever heard–ultimately positioning her as an artist with major pop star potential.  Slayyyter has what it takes to be a main pop girl; the question is, will the public allow it?